


Another Shot

by Missy



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Drinking, Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 07:24:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4092229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's lost in a downtown bar.  He calls Roman and hopes that his friend will be able to track him down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Shot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissKittyFantastico](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissKittyFantastico/gifts).



The phone rings at twelve am. 

Roman answers the hotel remote before he finds his cell phone. Doesn’t even bother to check the caller id before pressing it to his ear. “Whatt’d you do now?”

A blast of Jagger and the sound of muffled conversation fill the air. “Hey,” complains Dean in his ear, “no ‘are you okay, Dean, my brother from another mother’? Is the belt safe, is your tank full?”

“Hi, how’re you doing? It’s three am, you’re my bro, and my ribs are killing me.”

“You don’t sound excited.”

Roman groaned into the phone. “Why’re you calling, man? Do you need bail money or a ride back to the hotel?”

“Nah!” Dean said. “This is just my second bottle. Do need to do me a solid, tho.”

“What?” asked Roman.

“I sort of need you figure out where I am.”

Roman sat straight up in bed, nearly bashing himself against the unfamiliar headboard looming over him. “How do you NOT know where you are?”

“That’s the damnedest part,” said Dean. “See, I started out on Fourth Street, in this little dive bar called Sulie’s. I wasn’t two sips into my drink when this gal named Betty with a nose piercing. We got into her car and she took me over the bridge and we saw this alt-punk concert. Once that got out we went up sixth and did nickel shots…”

“You told me you weren’t drunk…”

“No,” Dean said patiently, “I said I’m on my second beer. Anyway, then we played blind-man’s bluff up and down the street, and by time we got to the next place I totally lost track of the time. Now it’s almost five and I’ve gotta get back to the hotel to catch some shut-eye.”

“…I knew I should’ve put a Lo-Jack on you,” complained Roman, yanking his jeans on. “You expect me to follow those directions and find you.”

“Yeah. And it’ll be worthwhile,” Dean said, his voice laced with serenity. “These chicks know how to party, I’ve got one more beer and hey, the sun’s coming up. Shame to drink it alone…”

“Oh, for fuck’s…”

“Come on, Roman….”

Roman only sighed.

He found his friend ten minutes later, dancing to white cod reggae on a bartop in Old Bremerton, surrounded by drunks and teenagers, a beret plastered to his unruly curls.

What a sight. And what could Roman do but join in the party?

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Ash!


End file.
